<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>You Know I Love You Too Much To Be Crushed Like That by Sunshinecackle</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558892">You Know I Love You Too Much To Be Crushed Like That</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinecackle/pseuds/Sunshinecackle'>Sunshinecackle</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Call It A Crush [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Les Misérables (2012)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Five And One, Gay, Grantaire has good advice, M/M, Pining, Side Grantaire/Enjolras, Slash, Unrequited Love, Yaoi, mlm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:09:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,351</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27558892</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunshinecackle/pseuds/Sunshinecackle</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Courfeyrac proved his love, and one time Combeferre proved his own.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Combeferre/Courfeyrac (Les Misérables), Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Don't Call It A Crush [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2014402</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Know I Love You Too Much To Be Crushed Like That</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punkocalypse/gifts">Punkocalypse</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have Twitter and Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunnywritings, and Tumblr is Writteninsunshine! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD I can PM it to people who want it on FFN, for everyone else, it’s here: https://discord.gg/FyaWw25</p><p>I have fanfic requests up on my tumblr! Link Here: https://writteninsunshine.tumblr.com/post/633894090732421120/requests-open</p><p>So, this is a gift fic for Punkocalypse, because we really ended up liking this ship. I hope that you like it, honey! At any rate, I really enjoy writing these fics lately, and I’m so glad that I’m finally getting some writing done. Hope you like this, guys!</p><p>I should probably mention that I’m terrible at poetry and so it’s a bad poem. I’m so sorry.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The first time, he was drunk. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So drunk he could barely stand, could hardly keep his eyes open, but he managed to storm the table Combeferre had taken up with Joly and Jehan despite this. With both hands on the table, shaky arms barely holding him up, he forced his eyes open to stare directly at the object of his overwhelming desire.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Combeferre asked with a raised eyebrow, only getting an odd grin from his friend.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Courfeyrac told him with conviction, only sending both of Combeferre’s eyebrows into his hair. Joly and Jehan snickered, awaiting Combeferre’s response.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You… Do, do you?” He asked, then held up a hand to stop Courfeyrac’s response, “How drunk are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t matter.” Wine was called Liquid Courage, wasn’t it? He couldn’t admit such a thing while he was sober.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re too drunk to know any better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he wasn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>If he doesn’t believe you, don’t give up hope.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Grantaire had told him with a little smile, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Prove yourself to him. If I can do it, so can you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The second time he couldn’t say it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Courfeyrac was painfully sober as they waited in line at the cafe to make their food and drink orders. It wasn’t like him to spend the night absolutely plastered as Grantaire often did, but he’d been doing it more often lately. Since his initial rejection, it helped to soften the blow, even if only a little bit. Still, he was thinking about Grantaire’s words, about not giving up so easily. Not proving Combeferre right when he said that he couldn’t, and didn’t, love him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want?” Courfeyrac asked, finally, when there were only three more people ahead of them. “I’ll buy, you can go on up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You sure about that?” Combeferre returned with a raised eyebrow, head tilting slightly. When he only got a definitive nod in response, he answered. “Coq au vin and wine.” It wasn’t like there was much more to drink, “Anything is fine, but red is preferred.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When it was finally delivered by an antsy Courfeyrac, Combeferre regarded him with a small smile and a soft thank you. The pair ate in silence while they awaited Enjolras and his newest speech, no doubt written in a manic state during one of his various law classes. Most likely, it would be in response to something ‘insensitive’ that a teacher had said, but that always lead to a night to remember. At least, for most. Grantaire usually walked away only knowing that Enjolras had graced him with his presence.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The third time, he couldn’t stop staring.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Combeferre had been sipping wine with Joly, talking about something that Courfeyrac didn’t really care about. It was something simple, a small part of life that was just on the side of annoying, but the words didn’t seem to reach his ears. Instead, he was focused on the drip of wine down the other’s chin, Combeferre’s lips moving and forming around his words so precisely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was beautiful, the red tint to his lips, the soft shine on them, and he was going crazy thinking about how soft they looked. Without thinking, he finally shot forward and, in the last second, he reached his hand out instead of his puckered lips. Smearing the wine against Combeferre’s lips and wiping it away, he didn’t seem to notice the odd stare it earned him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Courfeyrac?” Combeferre asked, turning to look at him, bewildered.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-sorry.” He murmured in response, cheeks on fire. “You had a….” His voice cut out and he looked away, but not before he saw a rare hint of a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fourth time, Courfeyrac was beside himself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Combeferre had needed someone to walk his dog one evening, because he had class and Enjolras was otherwise busy. The Briard, known as Porkoy, was a shepherd dog and couldn’t sit still around five o’clock. Courfeyrac offered himself up before he had realized just what he was getting into. The dog could be a terror when he wasn’t entertained, and he knew it would make Combeferre much happier to have him worn out when he got back from class.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That, of course, signed him up for a nearly eight kilometer walk around Paris with a dog that wasn’t his. Of course, he was occasionally stopped, asked about the dog, and told the questioning party all about him. A couple women used the dog to flirt with him, but he was so focused on his love for Combeferre that, for once in his life, he just played it off. It was strange to him, to be honest, not to be interested in a potential lay, but he had to remind himself that he had to </span>
  <em>
    <span>prove</span>
  </em>
  <span> his love to Combeferre, and nothing would stop him from doing it. He’d been working too hard to mess it up, now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he finally brought the dog back, Combeferre was so thankful that he gave him a long hug, and it left him feeling more than love-drunk when he left the apartment to walk to his own, calves ablaze.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fifth time, Courfeyrac was dying for more affection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had been good, a perfect gentleman. Laying all the ground work for so long, he only hoped that he could be loved someday. Unfortunately, he found himself at a disadvantage. He’d been drinking with Grantaire since the two of them had eaten dinner together, and he was feeling like confessing again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had written a poem, as well, and slipped it over to the other when Combeferre was talking to Jehan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The sun in the sky wishes</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It burned half as bright as you</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Love is a word that could never compare</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>To the things that I feel in your light</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want to make words, to create things that fit</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But nothing seems to work and all I can do</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is say that I am absolutely enamoured by you</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Combeferre read the note after a moment, blinking a little before looking over at the other. Courfeyrac had been putting in the time and effort to prove himself, and he smiled at him sweetly. Their hands touched and Combeferre rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. Courfeyrac melted in his seat, dumbstruck and happy with their hands intertwined.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Combeferre was not a man that showed a lot of affection. He was not the most romantic person in a room, he often had a hard time expressing things that weren’t his deeply held opinions. But, when it came to Courfeyrac, his heart had softened. The confession had been drunk, but even when he was sober, he did his best to try and give what he could. These thoughts brought him to helping Courfeyrac home after a night of drinking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were great tonight.” Courfeyrac was saying, drowning in the scent of the other’s cologne. Combeferre shook his head with a smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hardly said a word.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, but you kept Enjolras from punching that guy.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Someone has to keep him out of prison for bar fights over politics.” And that someone was usually Combeferre.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You still did great.” Courfeyrac babbled, nuzzling his face into the other’s shoulder. When they made it to his doorstep, the door was unlocked and Combeferre grabbed his wrist. Pulling him in for a slow, gentle kiss, he cupped the other’s face to hold him in place. When they pulled back, Courfeyrac happily stared at him, leaning back against his door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I might be falling for you.” Combeferre admitted, “You’ve been doing so much…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wanted to prove to you that I love you.” Courfeyrac replied with a blush, happy to be in the other’s warm embrace. </span>
  <span></span>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been doing so well.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re the greatest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hardly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“To me, you are.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really are blinded by love.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All I can see is you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should get to bed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too. Now, off with you.” Courfeyrac headed inside, crashing on his couch and thinking of nothing more than being held on it by the other man. He should have invited him in.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you liked this, guys. I had a lot of fun with it! I honestly have been so happy with how much I’ve been writing lately. See you in the next one!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>